


In the Web That is My Own

by uisceB



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance, Smut, Voyeurism, frozen swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uisceB/pseuds/uisceB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our World AU (no magic, no other realms, no Storybrooke, etc) - On her 28th birthday, Emma Swan decides to track down Ingrid, the foster mother who raised her and Elsa as teenagers, and reconcile the incident that separated them from each other. Rated E for explicit sexual content between Emma/Ingrid and Emma/Elsa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Web That is My Own

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a "trip down memory lane" type story, getting into Emma's history from the time she's a little kid to when she's an adult which means it's ridiculously long, so get comfy. Stay hydrated. Take snack breaks and go for nature walks. But also enjoy.
> 
> Warnings for underage sex (all consensual, but still underage), and brief dealings with anxiety

It's an unexpected birthday present— not just because it's her  _only_  birthday present, but because it's something she's put out of her head for years now. Anyone else would have skimmed right over it— Emma almost does, actually, because usually the only part of the newspaper she ever really goes for is the game section, and that's just to pass idle time when she's desk-bound at work.

But she happens to be taking her time today, eyes actually skimming over the pages before the game section, and there, in the lower right-hand corner of page 5, in understated grainy black and white, is printed a picture of Ingrid Fisher.

At first, Emma just stares paralyzed at it, wondering if she's hallucinating. After 11 years and 8 new addresses, the last thing she ever expected to just  _chance_  upon is her former foster mother. She tried once to track her down a couple years back, only to find that Ingrid had long since moved away from the house she'd welcomed Emma into during Emma's adolescence. Emma had returned back to her apartment in town frustrated and more than a little hurt after that day. And even Elsa— who  _should_ have understood— thought she was over-reacting.

"That's all in the past," the younger woman had told her, an unusual edge to her normally sweet voice. "Why did you even go looking for her in the first place?"

Emma hadn't been able to come up with a good answer— or she had, but it wasn't one she really knew how to express in words. So she'd left it, and made a point of putting it from her mind. Or at least an effort to.

But here, on the morning of Emma's 28th birthday, on page 5 of their crappy local newspaper, is the image of Ingrid, accompanied by a brief headline:  _Local-born Renowned Chemist Returns Home to Give Commencement Speech at Local College._

It isn't exactly an accident that Emma is currently living in the town Ingrid was born in. Despite the fact that the house Ingrid had raised her in for those 4 years during her adolescence is half way across the country, she's always remembered Ingrid speaking fondly of the town she grew up in. Emma always secretly wanted to see it for herself, and when, nearly 10 years later, she finally made her way there, she settled in. Two years now. The longest she's ever stayed anywhere.

But though she's always harbored the  _wish_  that Ingrid might magically decide to return here, and that she would then somehow magically run into her, Emma never  _actually_  thought something like that would happen; she's more realistic than that.

Realism does't seem to be playing into things this particular morning though, because there it is, printed clear as day, Ingrid is in town. Her town.

The feeble article below gives very little information, but it does give mention to the fact that Ingrid currently makes her home in New York, which means that if Ingrid is here, she must be staying in a hotel.

Emma's lucky here— while there are numerous little motels all over town, there's only one truly nice hotel, and Ingrid would have jumped for that, there's no question. The next bit is a little stalker-ish, but Emma needs— well she just needs to see her, that's all. She doesn't know if the front desk at the hotel will put her in touch with Ingrid, but if nothing else, she can hang out in the lobby and wait— Ingrid will have to come through there at some point. She isn't sure how she'll proceed from there, but that can come later. Right now, she just needs to get over to the hotel and position herself accordingly.

Not bothering to actually eat the piece of toast she was waiting for while she glanced at the newspaper, Emma pulls on her boots and leather jacket and heads to her car.

It's raining and thundering like a bitch outside and traffic is a mess, turning what should have been no more than a fifteen-minute drive into something closer to a half hour. Every second that passes sets Emma more and more on edge— for all she knows, Ingrid has left already, or is about to leave, or something…and then what? It's not likely something like this will ever happen again, and some desperate part of Emma feels like she might fall apart if she isn't able to at least glimpse Ingrid from afar. Just something to confirm that those four years from her adolescence, distant as they are now, were real.

By the time she pulls into the hotel parking lot, it's a full-on torrential downpour outside. The few people who are actually trying to brave the weather are bitterly regretting it at this point as the wind rips apart umbrellas, flipping them inside-out, tearing them out of their hands and flinging them this way and that.

Emma feels almost overwhelmed for a moment at the sight— storms were the first thing that brought her and Ingrid together. Emma doesn't believe in things like fate, because that's stupid, but she can't help but feel like this is…important, or something, that it's storming the way it is now just as she's about to find Ingrid again. For a second she feels paralyzed, watching the brutal pounding of raindrops splattering her windshield, feeling like she's 13 again, back in Ingrid's house, watching a coastal storm batter the windows, Ingrid's fingers threading soothingly through her hair.

Emma is startled out of her reverie by the buzz of her phone in her pocket. She takes it out and is surprised to see Elsa's name flash across the screen. She hesitates, pad of her thumb tracing at the corner of the phone, not quite able to bring herself to actually answer.

It's been…she counts it off…a little under two weeks since she last heard from Elsa. Part of her is relieved— that's the shortest it's ever been. Elsa does this sometimes— a lot, actually— where she just…disappears for a while, and then pops up again out of nowhere. It's anxiety, she explained to Emma one time. She can't handle staying in the city for too long, can't handle the people. Sometimes can't even handle Emma, and Emma's known her forever. Her anxiety's bad enough that she's been hospitalized for it a couple times. It's best for her sometimes, she's said to Emma, if she can just disappear for a bit every so often. The (kind of ridiculous) amount of money she inherited from her parents' will when she was eighteen allows her the means for that kind of flighty behavior, and she disappears often and with very little warning.

So normally, Emma would answer a call from her immediately. Normally. But every time the doors open to the hotel's main entrance outside, Emma's convinced she's about to see Ingrid, and she's too…weirdly obsessed right now to be derailed from her mission, even for a call from Elsa. And if she were to answer the phone and Elsa were to ask what she was up to…Elsa's always so convinced "those days" should stay in the past. It would be an awkward conversation, one Emma isn't willing to have just now.

So she ignores the phone, slips it back in her pocket and makes a dash for the hotel entrance. She's a fast runner— she clears the parking lot in twenty seconds, easy— but even still, she's nearly drenched by the time she gets to the door. It's cold inside the lobby, air conditioner on high, and it's making her shiver under her wet clothes.

All discomfort is forgotten in an instant however as she turns her head toward the elevators and catches sight of a flash of ash-blonde hair disappearing behind the closing doors. And Emma's aware, right, she's not  _stupid_ , there's probably thousands of women with that hair color in this town alone, there's no guarantee that was Ingrid— but some kind of senseless instinct takes over her and Emma races toward the elevators, jamming her thumb repeatedly into the  _Up_  button to call it back down.

She watches the floor number display above the elevator light up one by one as the blonde woman's elevator goes up, 2…3…4…5…it goes all the way up to the 17th floor, the top one, and now Emma's  _sure_  that was Ingrid. Ingrid was never rich when she'd fostered Emma and Elsa— running on a high school teaching salary didn't allow for much in the way of luxury— but given the opportunity, she always insisted on the best things, the finest things, and it would be just like her to take the top floor if she had the chance.

After what seems like an eternity, the elevator arrives back down on the ground floor with a  _ding_  and Emma squeezes into it the second the doors open wide enough for her, nearly knocking over a tiny old woman who's just innocently trying to get out in her haste. She calls out a quick apology while hitting the  _17_  button as hard as she can, and then repeatedly digs her finger into the  _Door Close_  button, even as someone calls from across the lobby for her to hold the door. Normally she wouldn't be that rude, but she can't risk anymore time being lost, not when she's this close.

Once she (fucking  _finally_ ) reaches the 17th floor, her heart starts to pound a little harder. On either side of her is a stretch of hallway, ten rooms on each side…she can't just knock on all of them looking for Ingrid, can she?

Fuck it, she's going to, because she doesn't know what the hell  _else_  to do, and she's running on too much of a stupidly excited high to have enough sense  _not_  to do that.

So knock she does, on room number 1701.

Maybe it's because she's a secret pessimist, but the last thing she expects is for the first door she knocks on to be the right one, which is why, when the woman who opens the door is the elegant statuesque beauty who gave her a home when she was a teenager, and soothed her every fear, and stoked a very treacherous fire in her that's still alive and well today, Emma completely forgets what words are.

"I…" she croaks out, at a total loss for what should come after that.

Ingrid looks barely a day older than when Emma saw her last, more than ten years ago. It has to be because of that thing she always insisted on doing, that weird beauty regimen she'd read about where the women of some tribe in god-knows-where would dab their faces with ice cold— fucking  _ice_  cold— water multiple times a day. She'd even got Elsa doing it for a while, the two of them being oddly predisposed to the cold in a way Emma never was. Emma  _hated_  the cold, actually— so naturally, Elsa would flick icy water at her at every opportunity just to get a rise out of her, and even Ingrid would join in for a short time before finally coming to her rescue and wrapping her in warmth, laughing and kissing the top of her head apologetically.

Looking at her now, Emma is seeing those same bright, twinkling eyes— maybe a bit more of a refined dignity in the way she's holding herself that probably comes from a combination of age, and professional success— but otherwise just the same.

Emma tries frantically to come up with something to say, not sure if Ingrid recognizes her…like, should she introduce herself?  _Hi, I'm Emma Swan, I was kind of like your kid for a couple years when I was a teenager, you might remember, any chance you'd be up for a drink?_

But Ingrid beats her to the punch, lips parting in surprise and she asks disbelievingly, "Emma?"

The pit of Emma's stomach does a weird flippy thing at the sound of her voice. It's so soft— she'd forgotten how soft it was. Even softer than Elsa's, but warm, heady, almost tangible. Emma remembers as a teenager thinking she could probably wrap herself up in that voice like a blanket, and she kind of has the same thought now.

"Ah… _hi_ ," Emma blurts in response, hand flying up automatically to rub awkwardly at the back of her neck. A thousand memories flash in quick succession behind her eyes and she realizes she still has no idea what to say.  _I saw your picture in the paper and stalked you like a big crazy person, also do you remember that one time when I was fifteen and I accidentally walked in on you getting out of the shower? I was at a very impressionable age. But also you were a really great mother figure to me. A really great naked mother figure. Wanna catch up?_

Luckily Ingrid comes to her speechless rescue again and steps out into the hall, pulling Emma into her and embracing her tightly like it's the most natural thing in the world. Ingrid's laughing, Emma realizes, this really beautiful, surprised-sounding laugh, and when she pulls back, her eyes are filled with tears and she cups either side of Emma's face, staring at her like she can't believe her eyes.

"Look at you," Ingrid whispers in awe. Emma feels uncomfortably feverish all over— she's probably blushing, also she's really happy, and kind of embarrassed…Ingrid's hands on her face are pleasantly cool though, hopefully they'll keep her from flushing as red as she feels.

"You're so beautiful," Ingrid continues. She pauses as her fingers brush the ends of Emma's rain-soaked hair. "And… _drenched_ ," she laughs. "Come inside, I'm sure I've got tea or…coffee or something included in the room fare— do you want something?"

She looks uncertain and almost shy for a moment, which just about melts Emma's heart. Emma nods, trying hard to suppress a grin as Ingrid escorts her inside, interlinking her arms with Emma's.

"How on earth did you find me?" Ingrid asks, gesturing for Emma to sit down on the couch while she rummages through the kitchenette. Of  _course_  Ingrid booked the hotel suite with the couch and the kitchenette.

"Oh, I was uh, looking through the paper," Emma says, realizing that she's now actually expected to put a full sentence together. She shivers a little because she's soaked to the bone and Ingrid of course has the AC on at full blast. "I was just planning on trying to finish a crossword puzzle for once, and then I saw your picture and that caption and then I figured you'd probably be in the only nice hotel in town…"

Ingrid turns her head back to look at her over her shoulder, smiling. "You know me too well," she says.

Emma grins back. "Yeah well, after that I…kinda just stalked you from there," she finishes, counting on her natural cheekiness to make that last bit sound endearing rather than creepy.

It seems to work on Ingrid who laughs and turns back to the basket of teas and things she's looking through. "Well I'm very glad you did," she says. She pauses, then turns back around to face Emma, holding up a small packet of something. "They have hot cocoa," she offers. "Or— well I guess maybe you're too old for hot cocoa now, aren't you. There's coffee…?"

"Cocoa's good," Emma interrupts, self-consciously shifting on her haunches.

Ingrid's face breaks into a wide, relieved grin, like it makes her happy to hear Emma hasn't outgrown cocoa. The fact is, Emma will probably  _never_  outgrow it— Ingrid's the one who got her hooked on it in the first place, and anyway, who the hell would choose to drink coffee when there's perfectly good hot chocolate around? Her ex, Regina, used to make fun of her for sticking to hot cocoa all the time, claiming that Emma "ate like a child." And okay, so that's probably true, Emma  _does_  eat like a child, but that's obviously just because kids' food is  _better_  than adult food. Everyone knows that.

She's quiet while Ingrid sets about heating up two mugs of hot cocoa. With how cold she is, and the rain slamming against the window outside, and Ingrid fixing her hot chocolate, it's weird, Emma can't help but be reminded of the first time she and Ingrid ever really bonded when she was 13.

She'd been such an angry little teenager then, and had been in and out of enough foster homes by that point to feel like it was just fine to aim that anger at her new foster mother because chances were, she wouldn't be there long anyway. The only good thing about Ingrid that she could think of at the time was that she hadn't split Emma and Elsa up. That had happened too many times before— people coming in to the children's group home, only looking to take in one kid, and they never gave a second thought to the way Elsa would cling to Emma, and scream and cry if she was taken away. Emma intentionally got herself kicked out of more than a few foster homes just to get back to Elsa, and she knew Elsa did the same. Eventually the two of them developed enough of a reputation for being "difficult" that it started to look like the group home would end up being their permanent residence until they finally came of age.

So Emma had been wary when she was called in to meet Ingrid a few days before her thirteenth birthday. Actually, she hadn't just been  _wary,_  she'd been out and out rude, alternating between completely ignoring her, and insulting her as Ingrid tried to make small talk and tell her things about where they'd be living, and what she did for work. Eventually, Ingrid seemed to notice that Emma kept looking out the window to where Elsa sat waiting for her, and a thoughtful expression crossed her face and she said, "Emma? What would you think if I were to see if I could bring your friend with us?"

And Emma still didn't trust her, not for a second, but the idea of being able to leave the group home  _and_ keep Elsa…well it was tempting. So Emma fixed her gaze to the far wall and shrugged carelessly.

It made Ingrid smile for some reason, and she got up to go speak with the director of the Home and…well Emma guessed they must have worked something out because it wasn't long before she and Elsa found themselves delivered to Ingrid's house, a small but artfully decorated place on the outskirts of town.

Elsa took to Ingrid immediately— which was beyond unheard of. Normally, Elsa barely even acknowledged the  _existence_  of anyone who wasn't Emma, forget actually speaking to them. But Ingrid was patient with her— with both of them, really— letting Elsa come to her in her own time. Elsa seemed to like that she was soft-spoken like her, and loved the art she had around the house— Ingrid was quick to notice her more artistic tendencies and bought her a sketch book, encouraging her to hone skills that even Emma hadn't been aware the younger girl possessed.

While she was happy to see Elsa so unexpectedly at ease with herself, Emma still continued to keep her distance from Ingrid for the first several weeks. She was still on the look-out for signs that this wouldn't work out, that Ingrid was actually a horrible, abusive human being, or worse, a liar who would abandon them at the first sign of difficulty.

It wasn't until a massive storm whipped up from off the coast, pelting the town with the most violent rain Emma could remember having seen, that she warmed up to Ingrid.

Elsa was out on the porch at the time, daringly darting her hand out from under the cover of the roof to catch stinging raindrops in her palm. Ingrid had told her to come inside a couple times, but Elsa was being uncharacteristically brash and seemed strangely energized by the storm, submitting to staying under the roofed-in porch, but refusing to come all the way inside.

Emma sat on the window seat in the living room, alternating between watching Elsa and casting furtive glances at the lightning and raging winds outside. There wasn't a whole lot out there in the world that scared her, but she'd never liked storms. They were loud and unpredictable, and she had weird dreams sometimes about being whisked away in a storm as a baby. She knew they were just dreams, but she still didn't like them, and they didn't help with the way she viewed storms at all.

She tensed inwardly when she felt the cushion of the window seat sink a little as Ingrid sat down beside her. Her foster mother was silent for a moment, and then she said softly, "She'll be alright."

Emma glanced at her, and then fixed her gaze back on Elsa, tightening her shoulders.

"I know you worry about her," Ingrid went on. She tilted sideways to nudge shoulders with Emma briefly, offering a small smile. "You're going to give yourself wrinkles with all that worrying."

"I'm not  _worrying_ ," Emma mumbled. "I'm just making sure she doesn't get electrocuted."

She jolted as a crash of thunder echoed around them and all the lights in the house flickered out. Cold gripped at her chest— she wasn't scared of the dark, not really, but she didn't like this.

"Emma?" she heard Elsa call fearfully from outside. In a flash Emma was on her feet, making her way through the darkness out to the porch, stopping when Elsa's tiny frame collided with hers and her arms gripped her around the waist.

"It's okay, Els, I've got you," Emma assured her, making sure to keep the quaver out of her own voice. "Power's just out, see? Nothing to be scared of."

She held Elsa tighter when she heard rustling behind them, relaxing only slightly when she realized it was just Ingrid coming out to join them, carrying a big bundle of things in her arms.

Elsa peeked at her curiously, taking in the bundle warily. "What's that?" she asked.

Ingrid took the time to set one of the things down first before answering— it was a battery-powered lantern which she placed in the middle of the floor of the porch, switching it on so they were bathed in faint, comforting yellow light.

Then she held up the bundle of other things which Emma could now see was a big pile of blankets and pillows.

"I thought we could all sit out here and watch the storm together," Ingrid said, laying the blankets and pillows out in what even Emma had to admit looked like a pretty comfortable arrangement.

Elsa jumped in her arms as another roll of thunder crashed around them. The younger girl looked fearful, like she wanted to go inside to get away from the loudness of the thunder, but was also afraid to go inside given how pitch black the house was.

Ingrid sat down on the pile of blankets, settling herself back against the pillows and extended her hand to Elsa.

"It's alright," she said soothingly. "Emma's right, there's nothing to be afraid of. The storm will wear itself out before too long, the three of us can sit here with the lantern and watch it go. What do you think?"

Elsa was still hesitant and Emma knew why. The rain and even the flashes of lightning had been fun for Elsa, but once the thunder arrived, she was scared. Loud noises always set her on edge— Emma thought it probably had to do with the fact that Elsa's parents were killed in a car crash when the younger girl was five years old. Ingrid didn't know that, obviously, and for some reason it made Emma mad that she didn't know, didn't get it. She clenched her fists angrily, getting ready to tell Ingrid off for being insensitive, but then she felt Elsa loosen her grip around her waist and the younger girl shuffled over to Ingrid and sat down next to her on the blankets.

Emma stared, unable to believe it as Elsa snuggled into Ingrid's side, melting into the arm Ingrid wrapped around her shoulders. It was one thing for Elsa to  _talk_  to Ingrid, but for her to allow her to  _touch…?_  Elsa never let  _anyone_  touch her, only Emma—  _only_  Emma— but here she was, curling up against Ingrid like the most content little thing on the face of the earth, instantly soothed by her touch.

The younger girl looked up at Emma expectantly. Ingrid was looking up at her too, but while her expression was open and inviting, she didn't look like she expected Emma to join them.

"Emma?" Elsa prompted, small voice ever so slightly imperious.

Emma didn't  _want_  to join them, but she was also pretty reluctant to go back into the pitch black darkness of the house. Besides, there was no way in hell she was going to leave Elsa unsupervised around Ingrid, not when she still wasn't sure she trusted her, so finally she crossed over the porch and settled down on the other side of Elsa.

The three of them sat in silence, watching as the storm slowly started to move on, thunder fading to distant, comforting rumbles, just as Ingrid had said it would. Before long, Emma felt Elsa's breath grow deep and slow as the younger girl drifted off to sleep, turning to lean more into Emma rather than Ingrid.

Emma grew aware of Ingrid's gaze on both of them, and looked up to find her expression content and smiling softly. She brushed some of Elsa's hair out of her face.

"I'm glad she has you, Emma," she said, voice quiet so as not to wake Elsa.

Emma flinched at her statement, not sure what to say.

"I know she's had a hard time," Ingrid went on. "You both have. And I know it isn't… _easy_ …to open up to me, but…well it's good that you have each other. You can look after one another. That's important."

Emma glanced down at Elsa whose head was rested on her shoulder, and felt something in her chest swell proudly. From the time she'd first met Elsa when she was seven and Elsa was five, she'd felt like it was her responsibility to protect the younger girl. Unlike Emma, who had never known her parents, Elsa had actually been there when hers had died. She'd been delivered to the group home soon after their death, skittish and pale and deeply anti-social. She'd caught Emma's interest immediately after arriving, but Emma didn't actually interact with her until one day when she was watching Elsa build a snowman by herself outside and an older boy decided to mess with her, destroying the snowman.

Elsa had refused to cry, but Emma had watched her already pale face drain white, lower lip trembling, and tiny fists clenching shakily by her side. The sight of it made something snap in Emma, and before she knew what she was doing, she'd stalked over to the boy, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and punched him in the nose.

He'd gone down with that one hit, blood gushing everywhere, and without so much as a second glance at him, Emma had turned to Elsa, taken her by the hand, and led her away to help her rebuild the fallen snowman.

It still took another month after that before Elsa actually spoke to her, but the younger girl found other ways of communicating until then— small smiles, slipping her hand into Emma's, stealing popsicles from the kitchen and delivering them to Emma when she couldn't sleep, never mind that it was the middle of winter. From then on, Elsa had been hers— her shadow, her best friend, her sister, her everything. No one touched Elsa, no one hurt her, not when Emma was around. People learned quickly that a  _word_  against Elsa, even a funny  _look_ , and Emma would be on them, fists flying, words snapping, a tiny but powerful force of protective rage.

She looked back up at Ingrid now, trying to find a good reason to feel that same rage, but found she couldn't. Ingrid had been nothing but honest with her from the start, caring towards her, supportive of Elsa…

"I want you to be happy here, Emma," Ingrid told her gently. "I think Elsa is, but you…I think you're so busy trying to protect her, you may not know how to  _be_  happy. I just…I want you to know that  _I_  can do some of that protecting now. I can look after both of you. If you'll let me."

She reached over across the slumbering Elsa, hesitating for a moment before letting her hand descend, running her fingers tentatively through Emma's hair.

Emma tensed up at first, not accustomed to such displays of affection from adults— but then, she guessed the feeling wasn't… _that_  bad, and she relaxed a little bit, actually letting herself enjoy the sensation of Ingrid's fingers threading through her hair.

They stayed like that for a long while, Emma slightly mesmerized by the feeling of being touched, and Ingrid seeming to just quietly enjoy touching her. They both startled a little bit when Elsa stirred in her sleep, murmuring something nonsensical and burrowing closer into Emma.

Emma and Ingrid made eye contact and Ingrid smiled. "What do you say we get this little one up to bed?" she suggested quietly. "I think the worst of the storm is over."

Emma nodded, relinquishing her hold on the younger girl so that Ingrid could gather her up and carry her inside into the room Emma and Elsa shared. Elsa was small for her age— this was still back before she hit that growth spurt that allowed her to grow into the tall, elegant thing she is nowadays— and Ingrid had no trouble whatsoever carrying her to bed and laying her down carefully enough that Elsa never woke.

She straightened to face Emma as a few final rolls of thunder rumbled far off in the distance.

"Well," she said, somewhat awkwardly. She offered another careful smile. "I'm just down the hall if you need me. As you know."

Emma nodded, giving a tight smile in return.

"Uhm— Ingrid?" she said, stopping her foster mother as she began to exit the room. "Thanks for…" She trailed off, not sure where she was going with this.  _Thanks for keeping me and Elsa together, thanks for caring, thanks for not leaving us, thanks for the hot cocoa you leave me sometimes, thanks for…_

"Just thanks," Emma said quickly, before she started looking too stupid.

Ingrid nodded, reaching out to stroke her cheek...

"Emma?"

Emma blinks in surprise, taking a moment to remember she's not 13, she's not back in the old house, she's here, in this kind of ridiculously extravagant hotel room with Ingrid. Ingrid, who is looking at her with mild concern, holding out a mug for her.

"Are you alright?" the older woman asks her. "You looked a little zoned out for a moment."

"Oh— no, I was just thinking about…some stuff," Emma says.

Ingrid hands her the mug. "Your phone was buzzing," she tells her, nodding at it.

Emma stretches to pick it up where she dropped it on the coffee table, glancing at the screen.

"Elsa," she murmurs. Twice in an hour. Shit, she hopes she's okay— maybe she should call her…?

"You're still in touch with Elsa?" Ingrid asks, sitting down on the couch as well. Her expression is wistful, a little sad.

"Yeah, always," Emma says. Well,  _in touch_  is…one way of putting it. She probably shouldn't bring that up right now though.

"How is she?" Ingrid asks. She tucks her feet under herself, settling in, looking a little uncomfortable. "I know she and I didn't part on the best of terms but…I think about her…I think about  _both_ of you all the time. I never stopped. And…I know Elsa blames me for what happened..."

Emma's struck by how sorrowful Ingrid looks all of a sudden and is quick to try to ease her discomfort.

"No, she doesn't  _blame_  you, she just…I mean you know Elsa, she's a big worry wort," Emma says, attempting something light-hearted. "She got worked up at the time, but she's, you know."

"But she's doing alright?" Ingrid asks again.

Emma hesitates. "She's going through a little bit of a rough patch right now actually," she says honestly, looking down at her mug. "She needed to get out of the city for awhile, get herself together. But she's actually pretty good other than that. You know. She went back to school, got a degree in architecture…you should see some of her work, she's really amazing."

Ingrid seems to glow a little bit at that, somehow looking incredibly happy without actually smiling. "That's great," she says, voice a little choked up. She clears her throat. "And what about you? Are you working these days?"

"Oh yeah— I'm actually with the police department. Weird right?"

Ingrid laughs, hand slipping affectionately over Emma's knee. "Not that weird," she says. "You were a troublemaker when you were younger but you always had a very strong sense of right and wrong. I think I recall Principal Gold having to pry you off that group of bullies at school at least a dozen times. And you always had a good reason for it, you were always looking after someone smaller than you."

Emma grins at the compliment, shrugging self-consciously. "I'm mostly just doing desk work right now," she admits. "But fingers crossed for a promotion soon."

Ingrid smiles. "Fingers crossed," she agrees. She pats Emma's knee, pausing at the feel of it.

"Emma…" she says, frowning. "Your clothes are completely soaked!"

Emma looks down at herself, having forgotten. "Oh, yeah, sorry. I can get off the couch if you want…?"

Ingrid doesn't exactly roll her eyes, but the expression on her face makes it clear she thinks Emma's being ridiculous. "Emma, I couldn't possibly care less about the couch," she says. "But you're going to get sick sitting around in wet clothes like this! You're already shivering. I can't believe I didn't notice right away— Emma, you're freezing!"

"I'm fine," Emma asserts. "I'm a tough kid, I can handle a couple wet clothes."

Ingrid gives her that same look of incredulity. "Yes, Emma, we all know you're tough as nails," she concedes, "but I'm still going to play the mom card here and tell you you need to get out of these clothes and into something dry or you're going to catch a cold."

"I mean I didn't exactly bring a change of clothes with me," Emma points out, trying not to grin at Ingrid's worry.

"Well go run a shower and get warm," the older woman instructs. "You can put on one of the robes and lay your clothes over the heater so they'll dry."

Emma gives her a look. Ingrid returns it.

"Please Emma?" she requests. "It'll make me feel better."

Emma rolls her eyes— more for the look of the thing than anything else— and obediently gets to her feet, setting the near-empty mug of hot cocoa on the coffee table.

Ingrid smiles appreciatively. "The shower's back behind the bedroom there," she says, pointing, "and the heater's under the window by the dresser if you want to leave your clothes there to dry. There should be plenty of extra robes in the bathroom."

Emma starts trudging back to the bedroom, secretly really pleased by Ingrid's concern. Still, she can't help but put on an air of rebellious brattiness, mumbling "Okay,  _mom_ ," with an exaggerated look at Ingrid so the older woman knows she's just teasing.

Ingrid just smiles back at her. "Thank you, sweet girl," she says, and returns her attention to her drink.

* * *

Emma can't help but poke around the bedroom just a little bit while she waits for the shower to get steamy hot the way she likes it. Ingrid's got a dress hanging up in the open closet, probably the one she wore to give that commencement speech she's here for. It's not one Emma recognizes— though she guesses that makes sense, it  _has_  been 11 years— but it's very much her style, simple but extremely elegant, white, backless. It smells like her too, so it can't be  _that_  new.

Emma remembers exploring Ingrid's bedroom with Elsa not long after the storm. Ingrid was out at some meeting up at the school and she and Elsa were bored waiting for her at home, so Emma starting nosing around her room. She remembers thinking it was kind of magical in there without really knowing why— maybe just the fun of being in someone else's room, looking through all their things, seeing what was important enough that they'd keep it, or display it, or even hide it somewhere.

Elsa, who had just turned 12, went straight for the make-up which was strewn out over the vanity. Emma thought it was weird to see that Ingrid had that much make-up, given that she rarely wore any. She certainly didn't need it, she was already striking enough as it was.

Emma remembers thinking it was a different kind of room than the rooms she'd snooped around in at her other foster homes. Those always had a bunch of pictures of family, and usually a kind of generic landscape painting or something, but were otherwise kind of boring. Ingrid didn't have any pictures of family anywhere— Emma suddenly wondered if maybe Ingrid  _also_  didn't have a family, if maybe she was a lot more like Elsa and herself than she'd thought.

What she did have on her dresser though, where most people had a photo of some family member or another, was a picture that Elsa had drawn recently of Emma. It was leaned up against a collection of snow globes that Ingrid must have gotten from all over the place—Emma knew she'd traveled a lot before finally settling down here, and now she kind of wondered if maybe she'd traveled so much because she didn't have a family to go home to. It felt important that Ingrid had decided to display Elsa's work— Elsa's work of  _Emma_ — up with those snow globes, up where family was supposed to be.

"Emma!" Elsa called to her to get her attention. She held a little bottle of something up, grinning. "Glitter! For your skin! It makes your skin sparkle!"

Emma laughed at her and turned back to the dresser to explore the insides of the drawers. Elsa was usually pretty conservative about how she dressed, but recently she'd seemed to secretly want to glam herself up, which was pretty much the most adorable thing ever. She always denied it when Emma caught her doing it, but Emma thought the younger girl had accumulated quite a number of sparkly things for someone who claimed not to care about that kind of stuff. It actually kind of...did something to Emma...when she caught Elsa getting all dressed up. Like, sometimes, she sort of thought she might want to kiss her a little bit.

Blushing a little at the thought, she went through the dresser drawer by drawer, mostly just liking the way all of Ingrid's clothes were soft and satiny, and they all smelled really good. She wasn't actually looking for anything, which was why it was extra surprising when she found something, buried under the clothes in Ingrid's bottom drawer.

At first she almost called Elsa over to see it so they could both laugh at it, but then she wasn't really sure Elsa would get what it was, and also, the more she looked at it, the more she didn't want to  _laugh_  at it so much as she was just... _curious_  about it.

She knew what it was, because Neal, this boy she'd actually gotten along really well with back at the group home, had once figured out how to disarm the age locks on the TV in the break room so it played the porn channel for an entire afternoon before one of the staff members realized it. Neal got in a  _shit_  ton of trouble for that one, which was pretty funny, but most of what Emma remembers from that afternoon was the thing that was playing, where there were these two girls, and one of them strapped this thing on, and started fucking the other one with it.

And Ingrid had one of those strap-on things in her drawer.

It was weird, Emma thought. Not just  _it,_  but also...she wasn't really sure what this meant. She'd never heard Ingrid talk about dating anyone, and she guessed she'd never really thought Ingrid might be into girls...or maybe she wasn't? Emma still thought the whole idea of sex was a little confusing sometimes, like apparently there were all these different ways of doing it, and it was apparently really hard to tell what people were into, and like, what was okay to talk about and what wasn't, and what was okay to  _be_  and what wasn't...it just seemed like people were always trying to make it super complicated. Not at all like how simple Emma thought it  _should_  be. Like, you like someone and then you just...do it. Why even make a big deal about it at all.

Peeking over her shoulder to make sure Elsa was still busy playing with the make-up, she took the strap-on thing out to look at it a little better. It was...big. And it wasn't quite like the one on the porn channel because it didn't quite look like an actual dick- or else Ingrid was into dicks that were blue colored. Emma turned it over in her hand, wondering if Ingrid wore it, or if she liked it when  _other_  people wore it. Or both. Or maybe she just had it, maybe she didn't even use it. Maybe it was like a joke or something.

Emma wasn't sure, but she jumped as she heard a car door slam shut outside and she quickly shoved the strap-on back into the drawer and grabbed Elsa, yanking her back into the living room so they could pretend they'd just been watching TV the whole time.

Ingrid found out that they'd been in her room of course, because Elsa had covered herself in that glittery lotion that made her skin sparkle, but she didn't yell at them or anything, just requested that if they absolutely insisted upon sneaking around her room, they be a little more discreet about it.

(Emma returned to her bedroom a couple days later when Ingrid was out again and found that the strap-on thing was missing— she guessed that was one thing Ingrid didn't want them finding.)

She blinks herself out of her reverie, realizing she'd been so caught up in her memories she'd forgotten that the shower is running, hot enough now that the steam is fogging up the window in the hotel bedroom. She shakes her head, pulling her shirt off over her head, and her jeans and socks and underwear, draping them over the heater like Ingrid had suggested. It's kind of hard not to get caught up in her memories here. Those years with Ingrid and Elsa are the best she can remember— if she could pick one point in her life to re-live over and over and over, it would definitely be then.

She's about to head into the shower when something on the sink catches her eye. Ingrid has a pair of earrings laid out, and a necklace, and below those, a golden-yellow beaded bracelet Emma recognizes all too well— it's the same one  _she's_  wearing around her own wrist, the same one even Elsa still has, probably buried at the bottom of a jewelry box somewhere.

Emma picks the one on the sink up, holding it against hers, pressing her lips together. There's no other jewelry in sight besides that necklace and those earrings— Ingrid was never a big jewelry person anyway. The fact that she still has this, that this is the one bracelet she brought with her...Emma holds it against her chest, feeling warm deep in the pit of her stomach.

Ingrid had happened to come into a little extra money— she was on the verge of publishing a book on some of her work in chemistry, and she'd just gotten her first advance. She used a good chunk of it to spend on a weekend trip to the ocean with Elsa and Emma. It was during the fall when she did it, so it was way too cold to go swimming or anything, but the three of them still pranced excitedly up and down the pier, checking out all the vendors, eating all kinds of likely questionable but still really tasty food.

At one of the vendors, Ingrid noticed Elsa eyeing the jewelry, and ended up buying them all matching bracelets— golden-yellow beads with tricky silver clasps that both Emma and Elsa had a hard time undoing. She called them their promises to each other, that they'd always be a family, and then pulled them both into a hug, kissing Emma on the top of her head. Emma, who had long since learned to enjoy Ingrid's frequent touches, smiled into her neck, reaching over to poke Elsa teasingly in the side.

It was a memorable trip, and not just because of how fun it was, or how it was the first time Emma had ever been on anything like a family vacation— it was also the first time she ever had sex with Elsa.

Looking back, she thinks they were too young. Way too young. She didn't think it at the time of course— at the time, it seemed right, perfect even. But when she really thinks about it now, really thinks about how stupid she was at fifteen— or, well, she was  _almost_  sixteen— but still, stupid, stupid kid. Shouldn't have, but...fuck, she's glad they did. If it's one thing she's never regretted in a long life of other regrets, it's being with Elsa.

It wasn't even actually on purpose. Or like, it  _kind_  of was, it's not like Emma hadn't thought about it, constantly, for over a year now ever since she first realized she was totally in love with Elsa. But the act itself wasn't really planned. She hadn't even  _kissed_  Elsa yet, hadn't even told her how much she really liked her, sex shouldn't have even been an  _option_ , but…whatever.

Elsa was fourteen, Emma would be sixteen in a week or so, and the younger girl was still prone to nightmares. Nightmares were a frequent occurrence with Elsa and had been since forever. Neither of them ever spoke about it, it was just a given, and had been ever since they first met, that if Elsa had a nightmare, she climbed into bed with Emma, and Emma held her until she was able to fall back asleep. That's just the way things had always been.

This particular night though, Elsa climbed into Emma's bed preemptively, because Ingrid was still out, having run into an old friend at the pier, and Emma and Elsa had just watched a scary movie together. Elsa always insisted on watching scary movies when they were alone even though they only made her nightmares worse, and Emma always got the feeling she was trying to prove to herself that she could handle them. It was cute kind of, and Emma would try to make her laugh during them, make her see that things didn't have to be too scary or too serious all the time. Elsa still got scared, but she would giggle anyway, and it always made Emma feel really proud to think that she'd succeeded in making Elsa laugh even when she was afraid.

But she could admit to being glad that, even though she'd been able to relieve  _some_  of Elsa's fears, the younger girl still climbed into bed with her and snuggled in close.

Emma thinks it started innocently enough, with her just trying to make Elsa laugh again, tickling her and teasing her the way she normally would anyway. In her heart of hearts, she knows it wasn't  _that_  innocent, just because she'd been nursing these increasingly intense feelings for Elsa for a while now, especially recently as Elsa seemed to be growing into herself, growing into the beauty she'd one day fully blossom into.

But also…Emma had kind of raided the mini-bar, finding all these little bottles of things, and the two of them had started drinking them during the movie, giggling and trying not to gag from the taste. They liked the warm haziness that came with it though. Emma especially started feeling ridiculously giddy, and she thought maybe Elsa looked even prettier than she did already, which seemed impossible, but it wasn't and she was so happy all of a sudden…

She just got over-excited, she guesses, and Elsa did too— she was so caught up in running her fingers all over Elsa, still tickling her to make her fears go away, and she got all mesmerized by the fact that she was able to control her every reaction, and Elsa kept squirming under her...before she was really able to figure out what she was doing, she'd leaned down and kissed her, melting into soft lips and breathless whimpers.

Things sort of...escalated...from there, rushed and clumsy and messy, but amazing all the same. Like, it wasn't even weird or anything. Awkward, sure, but they'd sort of "been together" in so many ways for so long and it filled Emma with indescribable satisfaction that she'd claimed Elsa in the most complete way she could think of at the time. Her Elsa, her shadow, her best friend, her everything... _really_  her everything now. Making Elsa come was the most exciting thing she'd ever done in her life, she wanted to do it again and again, get her to make those sounds again, get her to cling to her like that, feel her wetness coat her thigh...

They had an unspoken agreement that this should definitely be kept hidden from Ingrid— it wasn't  _wrong_ , they both firmly believed that, but at the same time, they both couldn't help but have some sneaking awareness that it wasn't quite  _right_  either.

For the next several months, it was all the two of them could do to keep their hands off each other when Ingrid was around. And when she wasn't— Emma couldn't get enough of Elsa. They'd sneak around the house, Elsa usually a mess of giggles before they'd even really started anything which always made Emma laugh too.

This one time, when it seemed like Ingrid had been at way too many meetings and not spending nearly enough time with her, Emma decided she and Elsa should just go ahead and have sex on her bed. They nearly got caught— they ran into the bathroom in the nick of time to hide, only to have a distracted and exhausted Ingrid come in seconds after to take a shower.

Emma and Elsa were tucked into the bathroom closet so Ingrid didn't see them, but the two of them had to stay perfectly still in there while Ingrid showered so they wouldn't be discovered hiding no more than ten feet from her.

And Emma didn't  _mean_  to, exactly, but she sort of peeked through the seam in the closet door when Ingrid got out and what she saw made her throat go very dry, and her heart rate pick up like crazy.

Ingrid was...perfect. Like, Emma knew people were big on saying  _no one's perfect_ , but she was pretty sure Ingrid was the exception to that rule. Long, lean body, full breasts beaded with water from the shower...

She watched with a slackened jaw as Ingrid wrung her hair dry before wrapping a towel around her torso and striding out of the bathroom. She'd always known Ingrid was beautiful but like...

Elsa opened the door to the closet so they could both get out, stifling a laugh and pressing a quick peck to Emma's lips.

"That was close," she whispered, grinning.

"...Yeah..." Emma breathed, still a little dazed. She snapped herself out of it, returning Elsa's kiss. "Hey uh, maybe next time we should let it get a little closer, huh?" She said it like she was joking, but she was kind of serious.

Elsa laughed. "And what, have her walk in on us?"

Emma flashed her a cheeky grin. "Maybe she'd be into it," she said shrugging.

Elsa laughed again, rolling her eyes and giving her shoulder a playful shove. "You're such a horn-dog," she said, pulling her along with her to their room. That was all Elsa had to say about the matter, so Emma guessed she just thought she was joking but...Emma kind of wasn't joking.

It became something a little too close to an obsession. She hadn't even meant to think it, but once she did, it just…took hold, and thoughts of Ingrid flooded her conscious at almost every waking moment. And even when she was with Elsa…she wondered sometimes what _would_  happen if Ingrid were ever to catch them. Would she be angry? Would she punish them?

…Would she join them?

Like, she knew it was just a fantasy, right, but…the uncertainty of it was scary…and also tantalizing to the point that Emma found herself actually  _trying_  to get caught sometimes. She started fucking Elsa when she knew Ingrid was on her way home from work, and when they heard the car door close shut outside and Elsa would gasp urgently that they needed to stop, Emma would just fuck her harder, trying to get her to be louder, trying to push her to the point that the sounds might catch Ingrid's attention. She couldn't quite bring herself to confess her fantasies to Elsa in a  _serious_  way…what if Elsa thought that was weird? What if it made her uncomfortable? She loved Elsa too much to risk what they had over some silly fantasy, but she couldn't help but just  _think_ …like…what if Ingrid  _did_  walk in on them? And what if she  _did_  join them?

There were all sorts of ways it could go, endless possibilities that kept Emma up at night, distracted her at school, on the bus, when she was supposed to be studying…everywhere, all the time. She wondered what Ingrid would be like in bed, if she'd be gentle, or dominant, possessive, sweet…she found she liked the idea of all of the above, she'd happily take being spanked and punished by Ingrid just as soon as she'd take something sweeter.

And she  _loved_  the idea of Elsa being into it too. She could see where Elsa might need some persuading at first, and thought it might be really cool to watch Ingrid go about persuading her. She bet Ingrid would be really affectionate. Motherly, even, in a sexy way, if that wasn't too weird. That was probably weird. Whatever, Emma wanted it. She wanted to spend hours sucking on Ingrid's nipple, with Elsa sucking the other, she wanted them both to go down on Ingrid at the same time, to fight for it, to battle it out tongue to tongue while Ingrid fell apart above them.

And more than anything, she wanted to get her hands on that strap-on. She didn't think she really liked the idea of being fucked with it, but she  _really_  liked the idea of wearing it herself and fucking Ingrid with it— maybe from behind while Ingrid went down on Elsa. She had the feeling Ingrid would do amazing things with her tongue, she could probably get Elsa to open up and do whatever she wanted.

And when it was all over, Emma wanted Ingrid's fingers stroking through her hair in that way that both soothed her and sent shivers down her spine, and she wanted Elsa in her arms, sandwiched in between them like she had been the night of the storm. Emma was willing to share Elsa as long as it was with Ingrid, she liked the idea of both of them cradling Elsa between them because…well, Elsa  _was_  the youngest, she needed to be protected. The three of them could just be this tangle of limbs together, just one big happy family…

Emma puts down the bracelet in her hand. She keeps getting distracted, and that shower isn't going to shower itself. She's pretty sure she read that there's a drought over on the west coast right now, and she's just standing here wasting water while she daydreams about her younger self's daydreams. Stupid.

She steps under the fall of water, making it quick, just enough to get herself feeling warm again. She's already spent way too much time in here, Ingrid's probably wondering what the hell's taking so long.

When she's done, she wraps herself up in the enormous fluffy white robe the hotel has provided, feeling decidedly cozy. There's something about knowing that Ingrid's just outside that feels comforting. She feels taken care of, which she hasn't felt since she was a teenager. It's a nice feeling.

She steps over to the heater in the bedroom to see if her clothes are drying out at all, pausing when her phone buzzes again. Elsa. Just a text this time, but it sets Emma more at ease— it's just a happy birthday message, nothing urgent like she was afraid it might be. She smiles, looking over it— it's a picture from years back when they celebrated her birthday at this stupid theme park accompanied with a message:

_Happy birthday, my Emma! I tried calling you a couple times earlier, but I guess you're out celebrating like a wild woman already. Wish I could be there, promise I'll buy you a cake and a birthday drink when I'm back. Call me when you get the chance, okay? I want to talk to you about something. Love you, xx_

Emma smiles at Elsa's perfect texting grammar, scrolling back up to the picture. It's from five years ago— Elsa was finally 21 and maybe a little too excited to finally be allowed to drink. Even though it was Emma's birthday, Elsa was the one who ended up getting totally trashed, which was more adorable than it should have been. Elsa sang when she was drunk. Loudly. And not quite on key.

That would have been just a couple months after the two of them reunited after having not seen each other for five years since social services had taken them away from Ingrid when Emma was 17 and Elsa 15. They'd been separated, put in separate homes and not given any way to contact one another.

Those had been the hardest years of Emma's life, being ripped away from both Ingrid and Elsa in one fell swoop. Elsa fared much worse— her anxiety, always present to begin with, skyrocketed without Emma. Emma wasn't there to see the worst of it, but they talked about it from time to time once they were older. Not a day goes by that Emma doesn't think that she should have tried harder to contact Elsa during the time. True, she wasn't given much of a choice— but she feels guilty anyway. She could have run away— she  _did_  run away— several times— but she didn't know where to run  _to,_ and always just ended up getting rounded up again.

Elsa was the one who found  _her_ , actually, years later when the younger girl was 20. After years of shit jobs and most recently being reduced to staying at a cheap, crappy,  _definitely_  not hygienic motel, Emma had finally decided to bite the bullet and take some classes at the community college in her current town. Elsa, who was up at the university, found her on social media and intercepted her on the way to her first class, whisking her away to get coffee— well,  _cocoa_ — so they could catch up.

Inevitably, the two of them ended up back at Elsa's apartment— which was fancier than it had any right to be. Elsa had explained the whole inheritance thing to her, which had basically turned her into a millionaire overnight when she was 18, which...whatever. Elsa still didn't know how to  _do_  being a millionaire, Emma couldn't help but think, using her inheritance to go to college instead of like, buying a ton of random shit and flying all over the world like Emma would have done. Like, at the very least, she should have bought a really big rooftop pool with like a water slide and shit. But Elsa had always been  _way_  too responsible for her own good.

Emma told her all this, laughing at her, and Elsa was so beautiful, smiling and giggling every time Emma teased her, and it felt so wonderful, just like when they were kids, so Emma backed her up against the island counter and kissed her.

To her surprise, Elsa stiffened after an initial, reflexive moment of melting into her and pulled away.

"Emma— I can't," she breathed.

Emma just grinned at her, making Elsa squeak as she reached down to squeeze her ass. "Oh yeah, why's that?" she asked in a playful growl, kissing her again.

They both jumped as the door opened behind her, and Elsa separated from her as much as she could as sharp footsteps clacked on the floor, making their way to the kitchen where they were.

Emma turned in surprise as a sweet-looking brunette waltzed into the room, running her hand through her hair to reveal crimson-dyed tips.

"Hey babe, your doorman just let me up, hope that's o..."

She trailed off as her eyes fell on Emma, and her not  _quite_  innocent closeness to Elsa.

"Ruby!" Elsa exclaimed too brightly, separating from Emma completely and going over to the other girl, slipping a careful arm around her waist. "Ruby, this is Emma...you remember I..."

"Wait—  _the_  Emma?" Ruby asked, a bright smile breaking across her face. She stepped forward, extending her hand, shaking Emma's exuberantly. She was gorgeous, and sweet—  _amazing_  smile— totally the kind of girl Emma would normally go for.

…Except that…

…Except that she was touching  _Elsa…_

… _Emma's_  Elsa…

"It's really nice to meet you, Elsa's told me all about you," the brunette went on, eyes glittering.

Given how happy Ruby seemed to meet her, Emma highly doubted Elsa had told her  _everything_  about her. She offered a tight smile, trying hard to keep her expression pleasant as she saw Ruby slip her arm around Elsa's waist and kiss her on the cheek.

Elsa shot a nervous look over at Emma, face flushed as she tried to act as naturally as possible.

"Uhm, Emma's just moved to town, she's taking classes down at the college," she told Ruby.

"Oh yeah?" Ruby asked, perking up as she looked back at Emma. "I've got a friend who teaches down there. Where are you staying?"

Emma scratched her neck uncomfortably. "Oh, just...y'know...around..."

"...She hasn't found anywhere permanent just yet," Elsa cut in, noticing Emma's embarrassment. "I was actually thinking she could stay with me. Until she finds a place."

Both Emma and Ruby looked at her with equal surprise. That was certainly news to Emma. And given this whole...Ruby...situation...she wasn't sure that was the best idea.

"Oh well...cool!" Ruby said, a little to agreeably. Her gaze flickered between Emma and Elsa, not quite suspiciously, but still like she was looking for something in spite of the smile. "Uh...so listen, are we still up for movie night, or should I let you guys catch up or...?"

"No," Emma was surprised to hear herself interrupt. "You guys go ahead and do whatever you were gonna do, I'm pretty beat anyway. Probably just gonna head back to uhm...y'know."

"Well I'll make up the bed in the guest room for you," Elsa offered. "You really shouldn't walk around downtown alone at this hour, Emma."

She was looking at Emma pleadingly so Emma nodded, following her to the guest room.

"I'm sorry," Elsa whispered under her breath as she made up the bed. "I didn't mean for this to be so..." She waved her hands frustratedly, bending down to straighten out the sheets.

"No it's...cool," Emma assured her, shoving her hands in her pockets. It definitely wasn't cool. "I should've known someone would snap you up if I wasn't around to fight 'em off."

Elsa straightened up, eyes wide and apologetic. "Well, I..." she said. "I guess I'll leave you to sleep. Uhm. Ruby and I will be in the next room, so if you need anything, just..."

"Sure. Thanks," Emma said, ignoring the sharp little stab of jealousy that shot through her at the thought that Elsa would be sharing a room— not to mention a bed— with someone that wasn't her.

She tossed and turned for a while once Elsa left, trying to get comfortable, trying not to be angry after having been briefly so fucking happy. It wasn't fair. Elsa was  _hers_. She couldn't just get her back only to have her belong to someone else, that's not how this was supposed to go.

Restless and annoyed, she got up to get a drink of water, pausing when she heard a sharp inhale and a muffled whimper from down the hall. Knowing she wasn't going to like what she was about to see, but unable to resist the sound that was so very Elsa, she crept forward until she came to Elsa's room.

The door was slightly ajar— Emma shuffled carefully up to it, looking inside.

Ruby was seated on the edge of the bed, her back to Emma, mouth latched onto Elsa's throat as Elsa sat straddling her lap, rocking her hips forward as Ruby fucked her.

Something clenched low in Emma's core at the sight of it— true, she'd much rather Ruby wasn't in the picture, but Elsa—  _her_  Elsa— she looked so fucking gorgeous, Emma felt like she could stare at her forever.

Not giving it much thought, she pressed on the door a little, opening it just a bit wider so she could get a better view. Then she opened it a bit  _more_.

Elsa gave a sharp gasp, gaze flying up in surprise as she realized Emma was standing just outside the bedroom, watching her. She gave a whine, looking like she was about to tell the oblivious Ruby to stop, but Emma tilted her head at her, gesturing for her not to say anything, and leaned back against the doorjamb, sliding her hand down under the waistband of her pants.

Elsa went rigid and her eyes widened as she realized what Emma was doing. She whimpered, looking like she wasn't sure what to do, but Emma just nodded at her, urging her to continue enjoying herself.

The younger woman's whimper turned into a throaty moan at Emma's silent order, and she resumed rocking her hips against Ruby's hand, keeping her eyes locked with Emma's.

It took a lot for Emma to contain her own groan of satisfaction at how well Elsa was following directions, but she managed to silence herself— no good would come of Ruby realizing she was right there. She started rubbing her fingers against herself beneath the fabric of her pants, not really intending to get herself off right now, just giving Elsa a little something to think about.

And Elsa definitely seemed to be thinking about it. Even though it was Ruby she was thrusting against, and Ruby whose shoulder she dragged her lips over, whose ear she groaned into, she never once took her eyes off Emma. Ruby may as well have not even been there, Emma was the one getting Elsa off and they both knew it.

When Elsa finally came, she only barely managed to disguise her shout of  _"Emma!"_ as a loud, breathless  _"Mmmm!"_  sound into Ruby's shoulder, which was the most satisfying thing yet. Emma started to turn to go back to her room as soon as she heard Ruby starting to mumble something about how hot Elsa was, but paused as Elsa shoved Ruby back down against the mattress, eyes still locked with Emma's as she began kissing and nipping her way down Ruby's body.

That...was unexpectedly sexy. Elsa wasn't a characteristically dominant person, but she always gave as good as she got, and she was making it very clear that what she was doing right now was for Emma, no one else.

So Emma smirked and settled back against the doorjamb to enjoy the show. All in all, not a bad way for her day to end, given the circumstances.

The next couple of weeks were kind of rough— after their little voyeuristic...whatever that was...Elsa seemed guilty. Emma had decided to move in with her after all, mostly because she now actually felt like she could get a wedge in between Elsa and Ruby. Elsa remained steadfast of course, never once doing anything to betray Ruby, but Emma heard them argue over in the next room all the time. It made Emma feel a  _little_  bad— she really wasn't the type to ever try to break up a couple. But honestly...Elsa belonged to her.  _She_  knew that; Elsa, even though she denied it, knew it too— and it was beginning to sound like Ruby knew it as well.

Emma was able to glean from what snatches of their arguments she could overhear that Elsa couldn't come from Ruby fucking her anymore, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by Ruby that that had started the day after Emma had moved in. After a particularly nasty fight, Ruby left the apartment in a huff, pausing when she almost ran headlong into Emma on her way out.

"Look— take care of her, okay?" Ruby requested, looking flustered.

"I never stopped," Emma informed her coolly.

Ruby straightened up, fire in her eyes. "Actually, you did," she snapped. "You haven't seen her in five years, Emma, she's had a hell of a rough time since then. You weren't there to see that— I was. She was a mess without you and that Ingrid woman— I just want to make sure you're going to help keep her happy, not drag her back down again."

Emma stiffened in surprise. Of course she'd known Elsa wouldn't have been  _happy_  without her and Ingrid, but this was the first she'd heard that it was more...serious.

"I'll take care of her," she promised, growling a little to hide her bafflement.

It took Elsa a week or so before her guilt over her break-up with Ruby subsided enough that she found her way back into Emma's arms again. But when that finally happened, it was like...Emma didn't even have words for it, how good it felt to have her little shadow back, that sweet smiling face, her laugh, the way she murmured Emma's name over and over again like it was her favorite thing in the world.

The two of them were so perfectly in sync, there was nothing Elsa wouldn't do if Emma asked for it— even things she was a little unsure about. It was a nice feeling, having someone trust her and want her so much. Her last girlfriend, Regina— who she'd honestly fallen much harder for than she'd thought possible— had been basically the opposite, calling the shots on almost everything they did. That had been fun too actually, Regina had challenged her in a way that left Emma breathless, and in some ways, she thought, made her stronger— but even that couldn't compare to the feeling of Elsa's sweet, willing surrender. There was no limit to what she could do with Elsa, making her feel like she was a teenager again, free to explore and play with every fantasy she'd ever had.

Well...not  _every_  fantasy. There was a painful lack of Ingrid in her life, which Emma couldn't help but be suddenly affected by again now that she was back with Elsa. She often found herself thinking about Ingrid, about how intertwined the three of them had been, how inseparable. She got a little stuck on her one particular fantasy, the one with Ingrid's strap-on, and bought one of her own one afternoon, putting it on under her jeans and waiting for Elsa to come home from classes.

She greeted her at the door as soon as she came back, kissing her hungrily and pushing her back against the wall before the younger woman even got the chance to put her book bag down. It dropped with a thud to the floor and Emma stepped in close, nipping at her lower lip.

Elsa made this surprised sound as Emma pressed up against her, breaking away from the kiss to look down as her hand went curiously to the hard bulge in Emma's jeans.

"Em…" she murmured uncertainly.

Emma leaned in to nose carefully at her neck as Elsa continued to run her hand questioningly over her crotch, finally undoing Emma's fly, allowing the dildo to jut forward into her hand. The younger woman whimpered involuntarily and at the same time Emma groaned at the feeling of having the cock finally freed from having been pressed so uncomfortably against her.

Elsa was breathing hard, still not doing anything more than holding the cock in her hand, nervously, unthinkingly running her hand up and down it, almost like she was trying to reaffirm what it actually was. Emma couldn't help but shift her hips into the motion a little, needing to feel more of it rubbing up against her.

"So?" she breathed when Elsa still didn't say anything. "What do you think?"

"I…" Elsa swallowed nervously, breaking off when she lifted her gaze back up to Emma's face. Emma couldn't see herself of course, but she knew she had to be looking pretty disheveled right now, eyes hooded and lust-filled, chest heaving with anticipation. She hadn't expected Elsa's hand rubbing the strap-on's base against her clit to feel nearly as good as it did, but it  _did_ , and just the anticipation of how close she was to getting to be able to plow it into Elsa— she  _hoped_ , anyway— god, Emma didn't think she'd  _ever_  been this turned on before.

Her arousal must have been pretty obvious because Elsa whimpered softly again and buried her face in the crook of Emma's neck, nipping at her gently. She was stalling, Emma could tell, she wasn't completely sold on the idea, and wasn't sure what to say, or what to do, because she never liked to say no to Emma.

For her part, Emma wasn't sure whether she was disappointed by Elsa's hesitance, or even more turned on by it.

She took Elsa's face in her hand, angling it up to look at her. "We don't have to if you don't want," she said, feeling a  _little_  bad because that felt just slightly like she was guilting Elsa into it since she knew what Elsa's response to that would be.

And just like she knew she would, Elsa said hastily, "No— Emma, I want to, I do, I just…" The younger woman exhaled nervously. "It's just really…" Her face colored in embarrassment. "… _big."_

Emma grinned cheekily, unable to help herself. "Well  _yeah_ ," she said with a playful pinch to Elsa's hip. "I mean it is  _me_  we're talking about, what'd you expect?"

Elsa's face broke into a smile and she laughed shyly. "But does it…" she bit down on her lower lip and stroked her hand experimentally up and down the shaft of the toy. "…Does it feel good for  _you?"_

Emma hummed, leaning in to kiss her because she loved how much Elsa wanted to make her happy. "Yeah," she answered against the younger woman's lips. "Feels fucking incredible."

Elsa's breath caught and the tentative strokes she'd been giving the toy before suddenly became firmer as she got a little more sure of herself. Emma braced her hands on the wall on either side of Elsa as each tug on the strap-on sent pleasure pulsing through her.

Ultimately, the whole strap-on thing ended up being a big hit with Elsa, and for the next several months, the two of them continued to explore each other's fantasies, taking turns at who got to decide what they did. It was all so playful and natural— the happiest Emma had been since living with Ingrid.

Although, over time, she did start to notice little things about Elsa, little hints of what Ruby had warned her about. There would just be these weird stretches of a couple days, or a week here or there, or longer, when Elsa would seem to crumble in on herself. She wouldn't be able to finish projects, she'd forget to eat, or she'd seem suddenly scared of leaving the apartment. She jolted at loud noises, becoming visibly shaken, and nightmares would wake her up at night, and keep her up, worse than it had ever been when she was a kid. Emma could usually calm her down a little bit, but Elsa seemed embarrassed by her own behavior, and kept her at a distance.

It was around this time that she started her flighty behavior, where it would suddenly become necessary that she leave the city, even leave Emma. It was confusing to Emma at first, not to mention painful, and Elsa was too ashamed to open up to her about it, so they separated for a time. It was the second most difficult time in Emma's life, and it was directly because of that that she first decided to try to track down Ingrid. She didn't think she could function without one or the other of them in her life. In her happiest fantasies, she had both of them, they were back on Ingrid's porch, a storm rolling comfortingly outside, the three of them tangled up in each other. And she knew that was no longer any kind of possible reality, not only because Elsa was gone, and Ingrid apparently untraceable, but because Elsa had long since decided it was Ingrid's fault they had been separated when they were teenagers, and wanted nothing to do with her.

Aside from Elsa's anxiety, the Ingrid situation was the only matter of contention between her and Emma. Elsa blamed Ingrid for everything, and no matter what Emma said in defense of their former foster mother, Elsa remained resolute.

"She was the adult, Emma," she would say firmly. "It was her responsibility to say no."

The thing was, Ingrid  _had_  said no; it had been Emma who didn't want to listen.

It came at a weird time for all of them. Elsa, who had just turned 15, was alerted by social services about the existence of a younger cousin she hadn't known about, called Anna, who had just moved to the area. Anna had been similarly orphaned when she was a baby, but had been fortunate enough to be adopted early on by a large family of what Elsa described to be "short, boisterous lunatics who loved her dearly."

Eager to be involved with this last living member of her family, Elsa had reached out to Anna, and the two of them had begun hanging out constantly, almost to the exclusion of anything else.

It was an odd blow to Emma, who felt betrayed by it. She began spending more and more time with Ingrid, part of her fearing an end to what the three of them had with this new development.

"It's not fair," she grumbled to Ingrid, snuggling into her on the couch as they settled down to watch a movie. "Elsa's  _ours._   _We're_  her family, what does she need Anna for?"

Ingrid chuckled, putting her arm around Emma and brushing her hair out of her face. "Elsa  _is_  ours," she agreed, "but I think she's just curious. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

Emma angled her head up to look at Ingrid, leaning her head on her shoulder and gazing up at her appealingly. "But  _you'll_  never leave me, right?" she asked.

"Emma, of  _course_  not!" Ingrid laughed, cradling her face. "What would I do without you, my sweet girl?"

Emma glowed happily. It had been a while since that whole shower incident, but any compliment from Ingrid still tended to go straight to Emma's groin and she nuzzled in close, taking Ingrid's wrist in her hands and fiddling with the yellow beaded bracelet. She wasn't sure what it was about Ingrid that made her want to act much younger than her age. She felt constantly caught between wanting to act like a little girl around her, and wanting to push her down onto the couch and have her way with her. It was weird, she guessed, if she gave it too much thought— so she decided not to give it  _any_  thought, and just enjoyed the feeling without actually doing anything about it.

She and Ingrid grew increasingly close over the next few weeks. As Elsa began spending more and more time with Anna, Ingrid began to realize how hard Emma was taking it, and finally decided to limit the amount of time Elsa was allowed to spend with her cousin. It made Emma feel warm all over— she knew Ingrid had done it to make her happy.

Unfortunately, Ingrid's new rules caused the first of several rifts between Elsa and their foster mother. Elsa saw it as a manipulative move on her part, and couldn't understand why she shouldn't be allowed to spend time with her newfound cousin. She grew increasingly suspicious of Ingrid, claiming she was being controlling and deceitful in her attempts to keep Elsa away from Anna.

For all Emma knew, Ingrid very well  _may_  have been being controlling and deceitful. At the time, she didn't care— all that mattered to her was that Ingrid was getting Elsa to spend more time with them— Elsa's  _real_  family— and for that, she was over the moon.

Her elation didn't last long, however, as soon after, Elsa started sneaking out of the house in order to hang out with Anna. It hurt a lot, because Elsa had  _always_  needed Emma, and now it was starting to seem like she didn't. Although the younger girl kept her anger aimed primarily at Ingrid, it still made things tense between her and Emma, and Emma...well she  _missed_  Elsa. They barely spent time alone together anymore, and Emma felt dread at every corner, feeling like something crucial that had held the three of them together up until now was about to come unraveled.

As it happened, of course, Emma was the one who did the unraveling.

There was one time that Elsa snuck off to hang out with Anna and she didn't come home for two nights. Ingrid of course called Anna's family up in a panic and they assured her Elsa was just at home with them, safe and sound, having been told by Elsa that she had Ingrid's permission to be there.

That was a last straw for Ingrid, who, upon picking Elsa up and bringing her back home, grounded her and forbade her from seeing Anna for the next month. It was the only time Emma had ever seen Elsa throw an out and out tantrum— she locked herself in their room and refused to speak to them, even Emma.

Emma took Elsa's temperamental snub to heart, going to Ingrid's office at school the following day fighting back tears. She took pride in not being one of those girls who cried all the time, but she'd finally found a family in Elsa and Ingrid, and this tension between them, whether it was permanent or not, it felt like the end of the world to her. She threw her arms around Ingrid, holding her close.

"I love you, Ingrid," she said into her neck.

Ingrid laughed sounding surprised, but pulled Emma in against her chest. "I love you too, sweetheart," she said.

Emma looked up at her urgently. "No, but— l  _really_  love you," she said. "Really  _really_  love you, Ingrid."

Ingrid looked down at her, concern creasing her brow. "Emma are you alright?" she asked.

"Just promise you won't let Elsa leave us," Emma begged. "And promise you won't ever leave either. And promise the three of us won't ever get separated—"

"Emma, where's all this coming from?" Ingrid asked worriedly, cupping Emma's face soothingly. "No one's going anywhere, not me, not Elsa—"

"I don't ever want to be without you," Emma rambled, holding her tighter.  _"Please_  say you love me..."

"I  _do_ , Emma, you know I do..."

Emma couldn't control herself any longer, she leaned up and pressed her lips firmly to Ingrid's.

Ingrid inhaled sharply through her nose in surprise, body tensing under Emma's touch. She pulled away, gently, after a moment, holding Emma's face in her hands.

"Emma, I..." she broke off breathlessly, eyes darting back and forth between Emma's searchingly.

_"Please,"_  Emma murmured, leaning in again.

Ingrid stopped her, though her thumb still stroked soothingly at her cheekbones. "Emma, we can't do this," she whispered, and Emma thought that had to mean something that she was whispering like that.

"Why not, I thought you said you love me," Emma protested.

"I do," Ingrid assured her, smoothing her hair back. "Emma, I do, so much- more than you could possibly imagine, but sweetheart, we..." She looked so apologetic, her touch was so affectionate, that had to mean something too.

"Emma you're  _seventeen_ ," Ingrid said firmly. "You're a child— for all intents and purposes  _my_  child— I can't, sweetheart, I can't do this."

But she loved Emma. She'd said it, and Emma could  _feel_  it— she wasn't pulling away, she wasn't horrified, she was gazing at Emma with eyes both regretful and dark, chest heaving as she continued to stroke Emma's face. She wasn't saying no because she didn't want to, she was saying no because she thought she had to protect Emma from something, and Emma didn't need to be protected from anything.

So Emma did what she did best and didn't listen to her, pressing in to kiss her again, this time taking her by the hips and pushing her back against the desk.

Ingrid tensed up for only a moment before the feeling of it seemed to get the better of her and her fingers slid back to tangle in Emma's hair. Her lips parted and she sighed breathily into Emma's mouth, kissing her back with the most intoxicating mixture of reluctance and sureness. She was an amazing kisser— even better than Elsa, Emma couldn't help but think— despite the fact that she was the one surrendering to Emma's touch, she wasn't dissolving into the helpless kind of desperation that Elsa often did, she had more control than that, more finesse, answering each of Emma's movements perfectly, with absolute certainty.

No, Emma realized on second thought— Ingrid wasn't a  _better_  kisser than Elsa, she was just different. The feel of her just reaffirmed for Emma how much she wanted  _both_  of them, how they were  _meant_  to be together, as close as family could possibly get.

Both she and Ingrid jumped as the door to Ingrid's office creaked open and Principal Gold stepped in. They sprung away from each other, but it was too late— Principal Gold had seen, and in a whirlwind of surreal activity, he had contacted child's social services and Emma was being dragged away, yet again, from a sobbing Elsa who was being dragged into a separate car, and a frantic Ingrid who could only watch the two of them be taken from her.

So really, it was all Emma's fault, all of it. She and Elsa and Ingrid could have stayed together this whole time, except that Emma had been greedy, trying to have everything, trying too desperately to hold onto her perfect family.

Elsa always refused to see it that way though. No matter what Emma said, she was convinced that Ingrid was responsible, that she had done something to seduce Emma, manipulate her.  _She was the adult_ , she said over and over.  _She's responsible._

And maybe Elsa was right, maybe Ingrid  _did_  give in too easily. But it had felt  _so good_  to feel Ingrid wanting her like that. They were a  _family_ , they  _loved_  each other— it was okay to act like that if you loved someone, it  _was_. Emma couldn't understand why Elsa felt like she needed to blame Ingrid, like she was trying to protect Emma from something. There was nothing to protect.

On some level, though, Elsa's unwavering support for Emma felt like a testament to how much she truly loved her. Even after her anxiety got the best of her and she disappeared for the first time, leaving Emma in a state of utter confusion and hurt, Elsa finally called her up one day and invited her to come visit so she could explain herself.

She was staying in a house out in the country, one that had apparently belonged to her parents back when they'd still been alive. More than that, it wasn't far from where Anna and her new husband Kristoff were living— apparently Elsa had gotten back in touch with her cousin and had re-claimed the close friendship they'd been developing before social services displaced her.

When Emma arrived, Elsa introduced her to a ginger-haired bespectacled man called Dr. Hopper, her therapist who she said was helping her find ways of dealing with a lot of deep-seeded anxieties she'd been subject to since childhood. She took Emma by the hand and led her outside to a garden in the back, lacing their fingers together and nudging shoulders with her carefully.

They talked for a long time, Elsa fumbling to open up and explain herself, Emma fumbling to understand and not take those anxieties personally, or as accusations.

Elsa kissed her at one point, gentle but oddly firm.

"I love you, Emma," she said. She looked down nervously, and Emma could sense a "but" that was about to follow that.

"And I want to be with you more than anything," the younger woman went on. "But I just think...maybe...until I'm able to figure myself out, maybe we should just be friends."

Emma shot down her natural inclinations to protest and nodded as understandingly as she could.

"I'm not saying we should be friends just to say it," Elsa continued, a little hint of urgency in her voice as she took in Emma's expression. "I really— I want you in my life, Emma, I want to see you all the time, you're the most important thing to me, you know that, right? I just think, with everything going on in my head right now...being in a relationship with someone, especially with you...it's a lot. I just really want to be okay with  _me_  before I can really be with you."

And of all things to have happen...Emma found that "just friendship" with Elsa actually worked. Elsa came to visit her all the time, sometimes living with her for weeks, even months at a time. And they had their slip-ups...especially if one of them had had a particularly good day, or a particularly bad one, or too much to drink...sometimes Emma couldn't help but kiss Elsa, and sometimes Elsa couldn't help but fall into bed with Emma.

But on the whole, they kept to their "just friends" thing, and it was made more bearable by the fact that each time Elsa had to disappear, it was for shorter and shorter amounts of time, and she seemed healthier and healthier upon each return. And when Emma last asked her if she thought they'd ever get back together, Elsa had bit her lip shyly and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek and murmured something that sounded an awful lot like "Yeah."

That last one was a few months ago. And while Elsa had to pull one of her disappearing acts a couple weeks ago, she's stayed in contact with Emma, and Emma's somehow secure in this idea that she'll never lose her little shadow, and that the two of them will get back together again because they're just sort of...meant to be.

She fidgets with her big fluffy white robe, drawing it more securely around her shoulders as she stands to go back out to main room with Ingrid. About an hour ago, she thought she'd come here to find Ingrid with some wild idea that she might finally get to fulfill her teenage fantasy. All of a sudden though, she realizes what she really came here to do and steps outside the bedroom.

Ingrid is still seated on the couch out in the main room, having pulled out a book while she was waiting for Emma. Biting her lip, Emma strides over and kneels down on the floor next to her and looks up at her, placing her hand on her knee.

Ingrid turns to her, smiling, and chucking her finger under the collar of the fluffy white robe.

"You look much better," she comments.

Emma takes Ingrid's hand, nuzzling into her palm for a moment before looking back up at her.

"I'm sorry, Ingrid," she says quietly.

Ingrid looks puzzled, tilting her head and automatically beginning to stroke Emma's cheek with her thumb. "What are you sorry for, sweet girl?" she asks.

"I'm sorry for what I did as a kid," Emma says. "I didn't just cost me and Elsa a family, I cost you one too. I was selfish and stupid and just...scared I was going to lose you guys. And I didn't lose you, I'm the one who took it all away. I'm just...really sorry for that. I'd take it back if I could."

Ingrid shakes her head, turning to face her fully. "Emma listen to me," she says. "You never took anything from me. You  _gave_  me...everything."

Emma can't help but huff laughingly because that's just like, such a  _mom_  answer somehow.

"I'm serious," Ingrid says, laughing a little at Emma's doubtful look. "What the three of us had...it may not have lasted forever, but it was strong while it was there. I don't regret a second of it."

"Not even that part where I kissed you and social services put you under investigation for being unfit to provide care for minors?"

Ingrid smiles. "No, not even that," she says, leaning down and touching her nose to Emma's, a playfully intimate gesture that sends heat straight to Emma's core. True, she's no longer here for the purpose of fulfilling some wild teenage fantasy, but still, the chance to finish what she started...

She presses up, catching Ingrid's lips with hers, kissing her deeply. Ingrid doesn't pull away this time, allowing the contact, but she does still whisper a hesitant "Emma..." when they separate for air.

"Just once," Emma pleads against her lips. "I just want to have all of you once."

"My flight home is in just a few hours..."

"Well I'm very...efficient," Emma informs her, with an exaggeratedly enticing look.

Ingrid laughs and kisses her. "Efficient?" she asks.

"Uh-huh," Emma mumbles against her. "Benefits of youthful exuberance. In fact...you should have seen how efficient I was when I was seventeen."

"Not funny, Emma," Ingrid scolds, even though she laughs a little bit too and kisses her again, fingers slipping into the opening of Emma's robe.

"Oh right. Sorry."

* * *

Emma wakes up an hour or so later to soft lips on her cheek, and tentative sunshine streaming in through the window. She stretches comfortably, snuggling back into Ingrid's hold. Emma's never been the little spoon before- it's unexpected, but also kind of nice. Ingrid is warm, breasts full and soft against her back, arm protective and secure around her waist. The way they're positioned makes Emma feel like a little kid- or at least how she always imagined a little kid is  _supposed_  to feel— safe and cuddled up and warm.

"Emma," Ingrid whispers, kissing her ear. "Sweet girl, I have to get going. If you want to sleep some more, I have the room until seven o'clock tonight, you're more than welcome to stay. But I have to head out soon."

Emma sighs, turning her head to look back at Ingrid, raising a finger up to trace at her jaw. Her ass is kind of sore from where Ingrid's fingers dug in to grip her tightly as Emma thrust against her, and she's happy to note a scattering of love bites marring Ingrid's throat, and above her breasts. The sight of them makes her groan contentedly, and she turns over completely, nuzzling her face shamelessly into Ingrid's cleavage.

Ingrid laughs, stroking her hair. "You're going to make me miss my flight," she murmurs, breath hitching as Emma latches onto her nipple.

_Good,_  Emma thinks, swirling her tongue around the hardened bud and sucking. Ingrid's fingers dig into her scalp, and the older woman moans deeply, shifting and sliding her arms around Emma so that she's not just pressing her against her chest, but more cradling her.

"Such a sweet girl," Ingrid whispers, seemingly without meaning to as she gazes down at her.

They both groan in irritation when Ingrid's phone alarm sounds off, reminding them that this really needs to come to an end if Ingrid doesn't want to have to pay for a later flight to get home. Emma grabs the phone before Ingrid can, going to her contacts and adding her number before handing it back.

"Text me sometimes, okay?" Emma requests. "Just so I know you're good."

Ingrid nods, kissing her one more time before she slides out of bed.

Emma lays back against the pillows, watching her dress. It's nice, she thinks— she feels... _good_...right now, not desperate or afraid she'll never see Ingrid again. And even if she  _doesn't_  see Ingrid again, she's sort of okay with that too. Just this, was enough, to reaffirm that she's loved, that she's not alone, that she had... _has..._ a family. More than that, she was able to remind Ingrid of that as well. They might not be in each other's lives anymore, but they'll always have each other regardless.

She walks Ingrid to the door, carrying her suitcase for her, unclothed because she can't help but show off a  _little_ , like, she's kind of got a great body, Ingrid should have to think about that on the plane ride home.

Ingrid pauses before she opens the door, turning to face her. "So what are you going to do until seven o'clock?" she asks teasingly, "trash the room?"

Emma laughs. "Nah, I'm a cop now remember, I get in trouble for doing stuff like that," she says. "Think I'll just hang out and treat myself to another hot cocoa and some free wi-fi."

"Ah, that's my girl," Ingrid says with an approving smile. She sobers a little, looking thoughtful. "Emma...whenever you talk to Elsa next...would you tell her I…" She trails off, thinking better of it. "Well maybe you shouldn't say anything, I guess she wouldn't be interested in hearing from me anyway."

Emma chews on her lip, heart aching for the look on Ingrid's face. "If she ever asks about you," she says carefully, "I'll tell her you send her your love."

Ingrid smiles gratefully, reaching forward to cup her cheek one more time.

And then she's gone, out the door.

Emma drifts back into the bedroom, leaning against the doorjamb and staring down at the bed with its still-present imprints of where she and Ingrid just were. She feels peaceful at the sight and goes over, shifting back down onto the mattress and curling up in the spot that was Ingrid's. It's still warm, still smells like her. Emma snuggles into it and drifts back to sleep.


End file.
